


On the Way

by cherishiskisa



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, F/F, Trans Cosette, montparnasse being a major dork lmao, written for punk week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishiskisa/pseuds/cherishiskisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Les Mis punk week.<br/>Éponine helps Cosette get ready for a night out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Way

**Author's Note:**

> so i was like 'i wanna do punk week' and then i was like 'im gonna write lesbians'
> 
> anyway yeah here!! enjoy and leave a review or smth thanks!!

"We're going out soon, right?" Éponine says as she passes the bathroom. She knows Cosette is in there, doing her hair or whatever, even though Éponine has explained to her a million times that the whole point is to _not_  do your hair.

Silence comes from behind the door, but Éponine doesn't have time to think much of it, because she gets too distracted by the sight of Montparnasse in her living room.

"Wow."

Montparnasse grins and tugs on the zipper of his leather jacket a little. It's either actually vintage or from Hot Topic. "Good, yeah?"

Éponine makes a face. "You look like a cross between John Travolta's character in a shitty middle school production of _Grease_  and an 8th grader not out of his emo phase."

Montparnasse pouts. "I meant the haircut... I always dress like this."

Éponine snorts out a laugh. "Like an 8th grader not out of his emo phase? You know MCR broke up and I sold your LP of the _American Idiot_  soundtrack, right?"

"Fuck you," Montparnasse mumbles and flops down on the couch, clasps on his knee-high boots jingling. "So you don't like the haircut. It's fine. Whatever. No need to get petty."

Éponine had been about to go, but she turns around and looks at him. "It's not bad," she says carefully. "You know I hate the sideburns, but I like the bleached part."

Montparnasse makes a noncommittal noise, acknowledging her words, and she suddenly pities him.

"Here." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small handful of safety pins. (She always carries some around, in case of wardrobe malfunction or a tragic lack of style.) "Put these on your shoulder, or jean pockets. It'll help." Éponine hands him the safety pins and smiles, white teeth flashing under her oxblood lipstick.

"Thanks," he says after a moment and sits up, slipping out of his coat. He really does look like an emo 8th grader, and Éponine can't help a grin.

"Then get out of here. Don't you dare smoke in my apartment, yes, not even those clove things. I'll meet you at the bar. Cosette?" She starts heading down the hall to the bathroom, a little worried about her girlfriend and the mysterious silence.

"Yeah?" Cosette answers, voice slightly higher than usual. This means she's nervous, and Éponine sighs.

"Can I come in?"

"Um..." The doorknob turns. "Sure."

Éponine goes in, and her face lights up. "Damn, look at you," she murmurs, trying to slip an arm around Cosette's waist. "A regular punk princess-- what's wrong?" Cosette hadn't returned the embrace, and had pulled away instead, frowning a little. "Do you not like the perfume? It's called Anarchy."

"The perfume is fine," Cosette says, voice still too high, and reaches for a little pencil of eyeliner. "You've worn it before, I like it." Her hands shake a little as she raises the pencil to her eye, but she swears softly and puts it down again. "I chipped my nail polish."

Éponine can tell she's worn thin, and she lightly touches her girlfriend's soft wrist. "Cosette," she murmurs. "Relax."

Cosette lets out a ragged breath. "I've never been able to do a winged eyeliner properly, anyway."

"I know it's not about the eyeliner. What is it? We're only going out with R and 'Parnasse and the gang. We've done it a million times."

"Yeah," Cosette says softly and fidgets. "But it's my first time going looking like... this."

"Come on," Éponine laughs. "You look so hot. There's nothing punk rock about low self-esteem!"

There is a dead silence, and Cosette tugs her leather skirt down just a little.

"Oh."

Éponine bites her lip-- careful to avoid her brand-new snakebites-- and looks as apologetic as she can. "I can hold your hand the whole time," she offers quietly.

Cosette shakes her head and reaches for the eyeliner again. "I'll-- be fine. Lemme just do my eyeliner."

It'll be her first night out since bottom surgery when she's dressed more obviously, aggressively feminine than she's ever been. Sure, she's worn long dresses, but never anything quite as skin-tight or attention-grabbing as red fishnets, combat boots, a leather skirt, and a gorgeously fitted black lace top. Her hair is gloriously mussed on top of her head, displaying the delicate row of rings through her ear. And her makeup-- with the exception of the as-of-yet unfinished eyeliner-- makes her look dangerous.

"We don't have to go out if you don't want to," Éponine says after a moment, leaning against Cosette slightly. She's not pushed away this time. "No big deal. We can wait."

"It's fine," Cosette practically snaps as she leans in to apply eyeliner. "It's your friend's birthday, we should go. You said it'd be fun, and I won't spoil that with my dumb issues."

"It's not dumb," Éponine says, and watches as Cosette draws an uneven line, slowly, and swears. "I understand. Do you want some help with that?"

Cosette sets down the eyeliner pencil and her hands grip the edge of the countertop, knuckles white. Éponine has only seen her this anxious about something once or twice, and it's unsettling.

"Sure," she finally says after a moment. "Thanks."

Éponine nods and hops up on the counter, pulling Cosette toward her. She takes the eyeliner pencil in hand. "You trust me?"

"Always," Cosette answers. This is a silly question-answer ritual they have when Éponine is about to do something like present Cosette with a truly monstrous outfit to wear, and it's usually a joke, but this time, the exchange has serious undertones and Éponine has to swallow her worries.

"Close your eyes."

Cosette does, letting out a slight breath, and Éponine carefully draws the first wing across her eyelid in one swift movement. Cosette is clearly startled, but manages to stay still. Éponine shifts, and does the second one just as quickly. "There," she says. "Open your eyes."

Cosette obeys slowly, and her face has an expression Éponine can't quite read.

"You look so good," Éponine smiles. "I wish I could kiss you, but I'd get lipstick everywhere."

Finally, Cosette smiles a little, too. "Yeah."

Éponine gets down from the counter. "So. Do you wanna go out? We don't have to."

Cosette reaches down and takes her hand tightly. "I know," she says, "but I do want to. I'm okay now. Let's go."

"Maybe we can just leave early if you're not having fun."

"Sure," Cosette smiles. "But I'm sure I will. There's nothing more punk rock than tipsy, unapologetic lesbians, right?"

Éponine laughs, and leads her out.

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry i just love the idea of montparnasse trying soooo hard to be punk like the rest of them but he's too fashionable and ends up looking like he lives in hot topic or whatever
> 
> haha
> 
> my tumblr is stonertaire; come say hello!


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